


Love Changing Blues

by Kronos_KingOfTheMonkeyPeople



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Romance, post season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kronos_KingOfTheMonkeyPeople/pseuds/Kronos_KingOfTheMonkeyPeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a session with Dr Habib, Will is forced to look back into the past. But will he find what he needs to forgive Mackenzie? Post season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Just making the switch to ao3 so I thought I may as well post some of my old fanfics here - hope you enjoy!

“Why didn’t you tell me about the voice mail?”

Will looked away from the warm afternoon sun as it crept through the window, illuminating the deep wooden tones of Dr Habib’s office. He always felt this was a better place for lounging with a scotch and cigar than spilling out one’s insecurities, but maybe that was all part of the plan lull you into a false sense of security. Open-heart surgery on a plush leather couch. 

“Will,” Dr Habib pressed again, his voice annoyingly calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Will shrugged off the question with a roll of his eyes. “What, you want me to tell you all the shit I’ve been up to while wasted? My college years would make Cheech and Chong blush.”

Habib looked unimpressed. 

“It didn’t mean anything, ok?” Will relented under the psychiatrist’s silence. “I was on a smorgasbord of drugs, enough to take down Willie Nelson. I would have professed love for Geraldo Rivera’s moustache if I had its number.”

Habib’s gaze remained unchanged. “So you bringing in Mackenzie’s ex boyfriend; that had nothing to do with it?”

Will immediately tensed up. No, he wanted to say, but the denial couldn’t form in his mouth. “It was... You said it before – it was my sensitivity to betrayal. She betrayed me so that’s why I can’t seem to forgive her. That’s why I wanted to hurt her. Right?”

Jacob gave a small nod then leaned forward in his chair and watched him thoughtfully for a moment. 

“Do you know that in the entirety of ‘The Iliad’ and ‘The Odyssey’, in all thirty thousand lines, Homer never once mentions the colour blue?” 

Will furrowed his brow in confusion. “When did I sign up for a history lesson?”

“There is hundreds of mentions of black, white, red, green, even yellow – but never blue.” Jacob continued, undeterred. 

“…What is this, Ancient Greek Colour-By-Numbers?” Will interjected. 

“The thing I find curious though, is that the whole epic is set on the Aegean Sea. That’s pretty much the bluest blue you can get, and yet – nothing. Nothing in the Torah either. Nor the Icelandic sagas, nor the Indian Vedic poems. As far as we know the entire ancient world was practically colour-blind.”

“So you’re saying the water was always wine.” Will quipped flatly. 

“I’m saying perception is a powerful thing. There are very few naturally blue things out there in the world. So humans only needed a name for the colour when they could create it. And without the name, without the distinction, without the classification – how could you identify it as a separate colour? A single bit of information can change your perception of the world entirely. Without the word, you’re still seeing the blue; you’re just not noticing it.

These past few months you’ve been acting as if the reality is that Mackenzie rejected you. That you opened up to her in a moment of inebriated weakness and she shot you down. But surely the one simple fact that she never got the message has changed everything? You have dragged out her ex-boyfriend and made her sacrifice her journalistic integrity for ratings, but all the while she stood by you. She supported you while you tore down her world. 

These past months you’ve seen it, but you just haven’t noticed it.”

“Noticed what?” Will asked quickly, suddenly riveted to the young doctor. 

Habib watched him silently for a moment then leaned back into his chair. “You were the one who made the first move?”

“Noticed what?” Will asked more forcibly, his head swirling with colours and history and shit that he really didn’t need to deal with right now. 

Her legs.

The doctor seemed unfazed. “When you two first met, you were the one who asked her out, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” Will sighed in frustration. “As I’m sure you’ve read in that five part tragedy that is my file. What didn’t I notice?”

“Did she say yes? When you asked her out.”

He was late for a lunch. 

“What?” He shook his head, trying to clear his mind from the flood of questions and memories. 

The coffee. Her smile. 

“No. That was… years ago. It doesn’t matter –”

“It does.” Habib interrupted calmly. 

“Why?” He barked. 

“Because perception is a powerful thing, Will. And you haven’t noticed the colour blue in years.”

Legs. 

000000000000000

A pair of long, slim legs were delicately crossed in the middle of the bustling newsroom. 

Will had spotted them in the corner of his eye through the wall of glass that cut off the studio from the busy reality of the office. For the entire segment he made sure he remained focused on the issue and on the others, but every once in a while, when the attention was elsewhere, he found his eyes straying back towards the pit, and back to that pair of mysterious legs. 

“How do you think the Republicans will react to her lack of voting record?”

If only the woman would stand up, or just shift slightly to the left, rather than remain hidden behind the flimsy barricade of desks. 

“Will?”

He instantly snapped back to the studio to find the two panellists staring at him expectantly. 

Lights. Cameras. Opinions. He was still on air. 

“Well Ted,” Will quickly recovered with his most casual voice and a small shift in his chair. “I think it’s definitely going to be a key issue in this nomination period. The conservatives do not have any traditional litmus test to go by so I think it’s really going to come down to how much confidence they have in the President’s judgement.”

The young anchor feigned a thoughtful nod then turned to the other panellist. “So considering Chief Justice O’Conner has given her blessing to Miers, how smooth do you think this nomination will be?”

While the question given a vague, circuitous answer, Will saw a shadow move from behind the cameras. A small smile crept out on his mouth as the figure stepped into the light and gave a cheery wave of its fingers. 

Will never could tell when Charlie Skinner was drunk or sober, but that’s what happens when one never had a baseline to go off. 

The anchorman swung back in his chair to face the centre camera. “Well, that’s all we have time for this morning, I’d like to thank Michelle Jennings for coming on the show, and Will McAvoy, as always. I’m Ted Fisher, stay tuned for Kelly Liu and the Wall Street Review.”

The small red light turned off and bright house lights switched on as the studio filled with the sound slow clapping from Charlie as he emerged from behind the cameras.

“Why can’t I get an audience like you everyday?” Ted quipped as he pulled out his earpiece.

“You couldn’t afford me.” Charlie’s gruff voice answered.

“So,” The young anchor shuffled his notes. “What brings you down to the cesspool of the studio?”

“I’ve come to steal Will off you. Do you mind?” Charlie asked with a forced smile. 

“Of course not.” Ted responded genially. “He’s all yours.”

Will shot the young man a quick look then took off his earpiece, stood up from the news desk and joined Charlie as they walked out of the studio. 

“How thoughtful of you to ask permission.” Will murmured sarcastically under his breath. 

“News anchor’s egos are sandcastles, McAvoy: you need to build them up to knock them down.” Charlie pushed open the studio door and led him down the hallway. 

“Well give me a heads up when you see the tide roll in for me.”

“Now that could be sooner than you think judging by your little zone-out back there.”

“You saw that?” Will stopped as they reached the door to the dressing room. 

“I see everything!” Charlie raised his bushy eyebrows dramatically, yet Will couldn’t help but believe him. “What happened? Supreme Court not thrilling enough anymore?”

“Yeah, because everybody loves some Judicial Branch action.” Will pushed the door open to his dressing room and loosened his tie. “It was just… It was nothing – I got distracted.”

“Well you recovered pretty quickly so there’s hope for you as a newsman yet.” Charlie gave a resolute nod as he stood by the door. 

“Thanks.” Will smiled wryly as he took off his tie and rolled up his sleeves. “So what do I owe the privilege?”

“What are you doing for lunch?”

“I’ve got a big date with a turkey sub and a lecture on the fifth amendment.”

“Planning the perfect crime?”

“Planning to teach some sophomores at Columbia.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.

“You could write that speech in your sleep and those kids wouldn’t notice.” Charlie huffed with a wave of his hand. “Come have lunch with me.”

Will smiled inwardly and sat down on the makeup chair. “Where at?”

“My office.” Charlie replied cheerily. 

Will raised his eyebrow. “Will there be food?”

“No, but there’ll be bourbon.”

Will leaned back in his chair and studied Charlie suspiciously. “So you came all the way down to the studio and into my dressing room just to ask me out to lunch? People might talk.”

“What can I say, I have a thing for Republicans.” He shrugged playfully. 

Will held his gaze. “Charlie, what’s up?”

The director of the news division watched him in silence for a moment with a small, enigmatic smile. “You did an exceptional job reporting on Hurricane Katrina.”

“Thank you.” Will conceded modestly, waiting for his boss to get the point. 

“Harvey Moss thinks you did an exceptional job too.”

Will couldn’t contain a small laugh of disbelief, but when Charlie didn’t go along with the joke, his eyebrows shot up. “Hold on – no. You don’t mean Harvey Moss as in Old Man News Night Harvey Moss?”

“Is there any other?”

“I hope not!” Will threw up his arms. “The man can’t stand me! He called me a spineless slice of white bread with as much political conviction as a Hallmark card! What the hell’s he doing giving me a compliment?” 

“Why don’t you join us for lunch and find out?” Charlie shouted back, a smile still playing at his lips. 

Will sighed and fell back into his chair then looked back up at Charlie. “What aren’t you telling me, boss?”

“Oh, everything.” Charlie looked pleased with himself. “Write your little speech then come up to my office at one o’clock. Trust me, this is a lunch you won’t want to skip.”

He gave a quick wink then opened the door and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Will by himself. 

Why on earth would Harvey Moss want to have a meeting with him? The old man had been the anchor of News Night for so many years he had practically rotted into the news desk, where he would look down upon Will like some arrogant child who needed to be taken down a peg. Or five. 

He brought his laptop out onto the dressing room counter and tried to start on his lecture but his mind swirled with questions. Moss was old, yes, but the man was more stubborn than an elephant in a tar pit, he wouldn’t retire till they dragged from the desk on a gurney. And if he did, which he definitely would not, retire, then hell would need to freeze over before Moss would allow Will to take his place. 

No. There was no chance that would be the reason for the meeting. No chance at all. 

And yet... 

Will was thrown out of his thoughts by the piercing ring of his cell phone. 

We swore under his breath as he picked it up to answer when his eyes caught the time on the blinking screen.

13:02

“Will McAvoy.” He quickly tried to save his document and shutdown his laptop as the familiar voice of his agent chatted in his ear.

“Look, Sam – ” He hurriedly interrupted as he rushed to the door and swung it open. “I can’t talk right now I’m late for a lunch – ”

Just as he stepped outside something crashed right into him.

“Oh!” A high-pitched voice exclaimed as Will felt puddle of warmth spread down his torso. 

Dropping the phone from his ear he looked down at his shirt and the large brown stain that had suddenly appeared on it. But then his eyes caught on something else. 

Legs. 

Those damn legs.


	2. Chapter 2

Those damn legs. 

Those legs that had taunted him all morning, that had suddenly become ingrained in his mind like a befuddling contagion – those legs were now standing just a foot away from his own. 

The faint smell of perfume drifted in from underneath the coffee as Will slowly lifted his eyes from the pair of soft leather heels, up the slender pale legs, past the tight black pencil skirt and the loose cream blouse, to rest on a pair of dark grey eyes that peeked out from over two small hands, clutched together in surprise. 

“You!” Will suddenly blurted out.

The mysterious brunette lowered her hands from her face. “I am so sorry!” 

She was English. She was beautiful.

“You!” He found himself repeating, mind stalling. 

“Yes, it’s all my fault –” The woman burst out in apology. “I didn’t look where I was going, and then you suddenly stepped out, and then me with my silly coffee, and now I’ve just completely ruined your shirt!”

“I always hated this shirt.” He tried, grateful he could now form a coherent sentence. 

The woman squished up her face in apprehension, in a way Will found absolutely adorable. “It does look rather nice…”

“I think it looks better in brown.” He said with a small smile. 

All of a sudden he noticed the burning heat from his soaked shirt as it clung to his stomach. He quickly pulled it away from his skin and looked back at the flustered woman. He had a lunch to go to, he had a very important lunch to go to, but for some reason he just felt rooted to the spot. “I’ve got to um… I’ve got to change my shirt.”

He tore himself away and went back into his dressing room. 

“I’ll pay for another one.” She rummaged through her shoulder bag as she unhesitantly followed him into the room.

He turned around to face her as he started to undo his shirt buttons. “Listen, it’s ok, it’s not even my shirt. They just give me the clothes and I put them on. I’m pretty much a glorified coat-hanger.”

“Well at least let me get it dry cleaned for you.” She persisted.

He paused for a moment as he reached the last damp buttons, as a warmth that had little to do with the coffee started to spread through his chest. “You were sitting in the newsroom.”

Her small eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Just a moment ago, during the Morning Show, you were sitting in the newsroom, weren’t you?”

Her eyes brightened for a second as she gave him an enigmatic look. “Well yes, actually, I was watching your segment.”

“What did you think?” He found himself blurting out, like some proud schoolboy. 

“It was – ” She started then suddenly stopped herself.

“What?” Will unconsciously edged closer to her. 

She gave him a sideways look. “The Republicans are going to be hesitant due to a lack of traditional litmus tests?”

Will felt suddenly self conscious as he pulled off his coffee soaked shirt and pulled out a new one from the rack. “And?”

“And… that’s it?” The woman folded her arms. “What about the fact that she has taken the nomination that she herself was put in charge to find someone to fill? What about the fact that when she worked in a Texas law firm she was only in management? What about the fact that she has never held any judicial role in her life? You started out as a prosecutor, surely you can’t stand for this?” 

Will was knocked backed at the abrupt passionate tirade from the small brunette. “I can’t.” He answered truthfully. 

“Then why aren’t you shouting it from the rooftops?” She tossed up her arms. 

“Because I can’t suddenly decide to go on a personal vendetta.” He felt himself drawn in to this strange woman, forgetting the buttons and the lunch.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a journalist, not a polemicist.”

“Why can’t you be both? The Judicial Branch has been created to form one third of all Government. One third. They decide whether women can have abortions, whether black and white children can go to school together, whether one candidate wins the Presidency even though they lost the popular vote. They decide these things and yet the majority of Americans couldn’t name a Supreme Court Judge if one of them smacked a gavel in their face. The public didn’t vote for them and once they’re in, they’re in there for life. 

The President has nominated someone profoundly incompetent for the position. Calling out her inadequacies is not witch-hunting, it’s a public service.”

Will was dumbstruck as the woman stared at him determinately. 

“What are you doing tonight?” He suddenly found himself asking. 

Her dark eyes shot up in surprise. “What?”

He edged a bit closer as he finally found his confidence. “Tonight. If you’re not doing anything I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

The woman looked slightly flustered. “Dinner?”

“You know: food, drink, conversations on the importance of the Three Branches of Government. Think of it as a way to strengthen American-British international relations.”

“I’m American.”

“Thank God.” 

She gave him a small smile but remained silent as he slowly closed the gap between them.

“You see, I don’t know anything about you, I don’t even know your name. You on the other hand, you saw me on TV, you know I was a litigator… I think that’s a gross imbalance. At least let me buy you another coffee.”

The woman bit her lip, making Will’s heart skip a beat, then gave a small inscrutable smile. “Aren’t you late for a lunch?”

Realisation gripped Will’s stomach. The lunch. He had completely forgotten about it. As if Harvey Moss didn’t think he was obnoxious enough. He knew something important was going to happen in that meeting, possibly something life changing, but still he felt torn between running out to the elevator and staying in his dressing room with the unnamed brunette. 

“I’m going to get myself a new coffee.” She smiled knowingly as he struggled with his thoughts then turned for the door. “It was nice to meet you, Will McAvoy.”

Before Will could open his mouth, she disappeared around the corner and left him alone in the room. 

That fucking lunch had better be good.


	3. Chapter 3

Will double-checked his cell phone as the elevator stopped at the 42nd floor.

1:17

He swore under his breath then stuffed the phone back in this pocket and shot through the slowly opening doors as he quickly adjusted his new shirt. Moss was never going to let him hear the end of it, but right now Will couldn’t care less, because sinking in his stomach was the slow realisation that he had just let something amazing slip through his fingers. 

Will didn’t believe in love in first sight - hell, he had little evidence to believe in ‘Love’, period. But for some reason, in those few brief moments with that nameless woman, he felt… something. Some connection, some pull, something he could not describe and something he would probably never feel again because he completely dropped the ball and let her disappear. 

But now was not the time for regrets. He shook the thoughts from his head as he came to the frosted glass door of Charlie Skinner’s office, and warily pushed it open. 

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Charlie’s voice rang out as he sat up from his chair behind the desk, one hand gasping the remnants of a bourbon. Harvey Moss sat opposite him with his own drink and slowly turned his head to glare at Will in silence. 

Moss was a small curmudgeon of a man. To the public he was the rambling old professor, dull but kind hearted – while behind the scenes he was Napoleon; an obstinate, white haired, wrinkled little ball of fury that everyone tried desperately to dodge: and Will had just gotten in his crosshairs. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Will tried as he walked into the room. “I got caught downstairs and I ah, couldn’t escape.”

Moss remained silent, his murky blue eyes boring in to Will. 

“That’s alright.” Charlie answered cheerfully as he stood up from his chair and made his way to the small drink stand. “Harvey and I were just reminiscing about the old days in Vietnam when I was a green Marine and he was the intrepid War Correspondent who taught me the critical value in looking at someone’s hands.” He waved his free hand loosely in the air as he refilled his drink then turned back to Will. “Care for a bourbon?”

Will darted his eyes back from Moss to Charlie. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Take the damn drink, McAvoy.” Harvey Moss growled as he finally broke his silence. 

Charlie raised his eyebrow in a smirk then poured a new glass and handed it out to Will, who had no choice but to bite his tongue and take the drink. 

“So…” Will tried to start under the glare of Moss as Charlie returned to his seat. “Hands?”

“Hands!” Charlie exclaimed triumphantly as Will slowly sat down in the chair next to Moss. “It’s a funny old thing how just a tiny detail can flip your view of the world. There I was, young and naïve, in a sweaty bar in De Nang, completely smitten over one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. Until Harvey here decided to mutter over his beer: ‘look at her hands’.” Charlie let out a chuckle but Moss remained stern. “And there they were – wide, long and brawny. The man saved me from what would have been a very rude awakening later that night. However the problem was, after that night, I couldn’t unsee the fact that nearly half the women in De Nang were not completely, shall we say, delicately palmed. I needed a whole lot of drinking to get used to that!”

“You sure you weren’t just looking for an excuse?” Will smiled with scepticism. 

“Do you think I’m man who needs excuses?” Charlie gave a charming smile then took a small sip of his bourbon. 

Will gave a small nod then brought his own drink up to his mouth. “So,” He started carefully before swallowing the burning liquid. “What’s the occasion?”

Charlie gave a look to Moss, who remained silent, then back to Will. “Well, I believe Harvey has something to tell you – ”

“You’re a son of a bitch, McAvoy.” Moss suddenly erupted, causing Charlie to retreat back into his chair. “You’re a son of a bitch and I don’t like you. I don’t like your tone and I don’t like your conduct. You’re a political vagrant who only got into journalism to get into the viewers. The audience is your lifeblood and you will pander and bend and sell the Armani suit of your back just to get them to like you. You pretend to be the wholesome, southern hospitality, country solicitor from Nostalgia Town, Nebraska – when in reality you’re as hard nosed and elitist as the rest of us.”

Will could feel the anger burn up inside him as the old man kept hitting him, but he tried desperately to swallow it and gripped on to his drink instead as Moss continued. 

“Two months ago I thought you had finally decided to grow some balls over Katrina when you justly criticized your precious Bush Administration. I actually thought to myself, I thought: ‘Hell, it turns out McAvoy’s a newsman after all’ – that was until you returned from the field and settled back into your fluffy blanket of mediocrity. And that’s the thing; I wouldn’t care less if you didn’t know any better. But you do. You have the wost quality of all, and that’s potential. You have the potential to be a real newsman but instead you’re throwing it all away for the fleeting acceptance of the mob. You’re weak, but worst of all, you’re populist.”

“Sir, I respect you, but if you’ve just called me up here to insult me then I’m going to have to leave.” Will interrupted through gritted teeth as he smacked his glass on the Charlie’s desk and sat up in his chair. 

“No, you’re going to shut up and listen because this is important.” Moss hardened his icy gaze.

“I’m sorry but I won’t.” Will felt his insides burning as he pushed himself up from his chair. 

“You will.”

“Thanks for the drink.” He went to leave.

“Sit your ass down, son!” Moss’s voice cracked with emotion as he barked at Will. 

Will looked down at the old man. He suddenly seemed tired, broken, the last of the raging fire sputtering out behind his eyes. With a tense sigh Will gripped his hands into fists and sat back down in the seat. 

Moss watched him in silence for a moment, struggling with something, when he finally spoke out. “My wife is sick.” He forced his voice to be strong but then the realisation took him. “My wife… is sick. Two nights ago while I was interviewing Senator Harry Reid, she was collapsing from a stroke.”

“I’m so sorry.” Will murmured, all his anger melting away from him. 

“I don’t need your apologies, I need to spend time with my wife.” Moss growled, but then his eyes softened. “Sixty-three years I’ve been in this business. For sixty-three years it’s been the first thing in my life, the only thing in my life. My children have grown up to become strangers and my wife… well, I’ve got to try and make up for that while I can. 

But that doesn’t mean for a second I regret the work I’ve done here at ACN. I built News Night up from nothing, from the very first days of the channel. I know I’ve never been captivating on screen, that I’ve never pulled the ratings, but at least I’ve built a legacy. I’ve built a legacy of integrity, of truth, of wisdom and of justice. And if my personal life has had to chronically suffer for the growth of this legacy, then you can be bet your ass I’m going to make sure it carries on without me. Which is why tomorrow you’re going take my place as anchor of News Night.”

Will felt like the air had just been punched out of his lungs. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Moss grumbled. 

“What?” Will sat rigid in his seat like a stunned fish. Surely he had missed something. Surely he had blacked out through a complete chunk of that conversation because he could have sworn Moss had offered him his job.

“Will,” Charlie leaned in, a small smile playing at his lips. “Harvey and I were wondering if you would like to be the new face of Atlantis Cable News.”

Will stared at Charlie, hard.

“Is this a joke?”

“Do I joke?” Charlie shot up his bushy eyebrows. 

“All the time!” 

“Well this is the exception so make a note of it.” 

Will darted his eyes back to Moss. “I don’t understand, a minute ago I was the Typhoid Mary of all journalism, and now you’re asking me to take your seat?”

Moss looked at him darkly. “I thought you’d be flattered, McAvoy.”

“Of course I’m flattered! I’m more than flattered! I’m flattened! I just don’t understand why you’d choose me.”

“Because I don’t trust you, son, but I trust Skinner. I taught him everything I know and he’s become a better newsman than I ever was. And time after time he has told me that all you need is a podium and a little push, and you will become an unstoppable journalistic force. You have potential, I can see that. So don’t let it slip through your fingers.”

“I won’t.” Will replied honestly, humbled by the two veterans.

“I know won’t, because I’m going to make sure someone’s gripping your hand tight.” Moss gave a wrinkled smirk.

“I’m sorry?” Will didn’t like the look of the old man’s smile.

“There’s just one small condition for you to become the anchor.” Charlie jutted in to explain. 

“If I’m going to hand my legacy over to you,” Moss started. “I want to make sure there is someone keeping you on the right course.”

“I wouldn’t be able to keep Charlie away if I made the entire building dry.” Will offered, unsure where they were heading.

“Oh you can bet I’ll be there,” Charlie gave a knowing smile. “But it’s not me he’s talking about.”

“I’m talking about your EP.” Moss leaned back in his chair, smugly. 

Will felt a small knot of anger tie up in his stomach. Moss was treating him like a small child again, offering him the driver’s seat then snatching away the keys. Still, it was a great honour, it was the job he had always wanted, and it was not like Moss could pull the strings forever. All Will had to do was just bite down his pride and take it, and hope that it wouldn’t be long till he could find his own EP.

“So,” Will began carefully. “Patrick White will stay with News Night.”

“White is a good producer, but there’s no way I’m leaving him with you.” Moss growled. “The man’s as submissive as a damp sponge. May as well you the tiller completely. No, he’s going to move on to the morning show. I’ve got someone else in mind for you.”

“Who?” Will dreaded the answer. 

“MacKenzie McHale, a young producer from CNN.” Charlie took his turn to speak, sitting up proudly in his chair. “She’s a tenacious little thing with more unbridled passion for journalism than Murrow and Cronkite’s lovechild.”

“She’ll keep you in check.” The old anchor added sternly. 

“So I have no say in this at all?” Will grumbled.

“No. But she does.” Moss turned to Charlie. “Why don’t you call her in?”

“She’s already here?” Will shot up his eyebrows in disbelief as Charlie pressed the intercom.

Moss turned back to Will. “I invited her to the newsroom today to get an idea what she’d be taking on. Let’s see if she decided you’re worth it.”

Will let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I didn’t come here to be appraised by some upstart producer – ”

“That’s a shame because I would have given you a high 7.” An elegant voice appeared behind him that instantly gripped his chest. 

Her.

Slowly, Will turned in his chair to see the same mysterious brunette he had thought he had let disappear just a few minutes ago, standing in the doorway of Charlie’s office. 

Her dark grey eyes met his as she smiled coyly. 

“Maybe 8.”


	4. Chapter 4

MacKenzie McHale. 

That gorgeous, long legged, enigma of a woman suddenly had a name, and was suddenly standing right behind him. 

Gentlemanly instinct swiftly kicked in, propelling Will to stand up out of his seat and face her. An irrepressible and unexpected swell of joy rose up inside him, which he tried to stifle with his best poker face. That whole time in the dressing room she was playing him like a coffee stained violin, but in that moment, as her shining eyes drew him closer, he couldn’t care less. 

“Will,” Charlie’s rough voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Let me introduce you to Ms McHale.”

“We’ve met.” Will held his gaze on MacKenzie as she gave a small, knowing smile. 

“Oh?” Charlie piped up.

“We bumped in to each other downstairs.” Will allowed a bit of a smile to creep up on his lips. “If I’d known you were assessing me I would have tried to up my game.”

“In what way?” She raised a delicate eyebrow. 

“With a lecture, maybe a flowchart…” He gave a small playful shrug. 

“A 7’s quite good – for a Rookie.” 

“I can do better.” 

“Can you?” She looked at him enigmatically. 

“Can you?” Moss’s low, sceptical voice echoed, bringing Will back to the office. He turned from MacKenzie to see Moss leaning back in his chair, watching them both with an old furrowed brow. “Ms McHale, I’d like to thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

“The honour is all mine, sir.” She beamed. 

“The ‘honour’ might be a bit premature.” Moss shifted in his seat. “I understand this is more last-minute than the Bay of Pigs, but I think you’ve done excellent work over at CNN and right now I need you honest opinion: Do you think you can sustain a legacy I can be proud of, with this man here?”

“Sir, I think the question isn’t whether I can sustain your legacy,” She looked back at Will, her eyes flicking over his face as she studied him carefully. “But whether Will McAvoy truly wants to do a newscast that he can be proud of.”

Will felt like she could see right through him, into his passion for the importance of real journalism, into his hidden dreams of becoming a respected news anchor, and into his fears of being ignored, unloved, and irrelevant. 

“I do.” He answered in earnest, looking in to her eyes. 

Her face lit up with a proud smile. “Then I’m here to help.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Will said softly.

“And so am I!” Charlie suddenly interrupted, causing Will to tear away from MacKenzie, as he watched them with a mischievous look. “Otherwise we’d be sailing through Shit Harbour without an anchor!” He sat up in his chair. “But let’s cut all the introductions and the transitions, because at this moment, we need you both in fifth gear. I’ll call your agents, contracts will be written, forms will be signed – but none of that matters right now, because right now you’ve got a show to build. There are 43 minutes of television you need to fill tomorrow night and a team of people downstairs waiting to help you fill it. You will be on air in less than 32 hours: I suggest you get moving.”

The reality of the daunting task before them suddenly hit Will like a truck, and he guessed it hit MacKenzie too, since she went rigid as a stick beside him. 

Charlie watched them for moment with a quizzical brow as they stood in silence. “Well?” He barked. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Will and MacKenzie jolted into action as he made for the glass door and opened it, waiting for MacKenzie to walk through, then with a quick nod to Charlie, followed her out of the office and down the corridor. 

“We’re going to need to send out a press release.” MacKenzie was already talking to herself as they made for the elevators. “And get some stills of you for the title screen. But first we need to get all the crew together and create a whole new rundown.”

“I know them.” Will caught up to her. “They’re a good team, they’ll be up to the task.”

“Good.” She nodded to herself as she stopped at the metal doors of the elevator. “And it’s good they know you. I don’t want to seem like some over-opinionated preacher from a rival network telling them how to do their jobs.”

Will couldn’t help but smile. “Has that ever stopped you before?”

Her face fell. Slowly, she turned to look at him, coyly biting her lip. “Sorry about the coffee.”

“Don’t be. Besides, we’ll both be drowning in coffee before the day is done. ” He joked kindly. “So Ms McHale, are you ready to hobble together an entire show in less than 32 hours?”

“I was born ready!” She lifted up her chin proudly. “And it’s Mac.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mac,” He raised his hand to shake hers. “My name’s Will.”

A flush of warmth rushed through him as her small hand was enclosed in his, when the ding of the opening elevator brought him back. They let go, and instantly Will’s hand tingled with a ghostly chill. Hiding it behind his back he clenched it open then shut as he followed Mac through the metal doors. 

“An entire new show in 32 hours.” Mac chirped giddily. “This is going to be fun!”

“I think your notion of the word ‘fun’ needs to be re-examined.” Will pressed the level button. “But yeah, I think it could be… diverting.”

“It’s going to be fun!” She reiterated with a sure nod. “We just need to figure out what to lead with.”

“Well, I heard the President nominated someone grossly incompetent for the role as Supreme Court Justice.” Will stepped closer to Mac. “Do you think the public has a right to know?”

Her eyes lit up. “As much right as a right handed man has a…right…to use…right handed… things!” 

Will watched her in baffled silence as she tried to stumble through the sentence.

“So that’s a yes?”

“You bet your right handed ass it’s a yes!”

“Good.” Will smiled. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

“You were trying to impress her.” 

“Hmm?” Will snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Dr Habib as he sat shrouded in shadow in his brown leather seat. 

“Opening with Harriet Miers and the Supreme Court nomination.” The doctor repeated. “You were trying to impress her.”

“You think I manipulated the importance of the news just to score points with some girl I just met?” Will tossed his hands up in disbelief. 

“Yes.” Habib answered matter-of-factly.

“Seriously? How desperate do you think I am?”

“I think you’re a man.” He shrugged. “And I think since you met her, trying to impress MacKenzie has been a significant motivation in your life. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Will mumbled darkly, a bitterness gripping his throat.

“Ok,” Dr Habib shifted in his seat. “Then why don’t we talk about when MacKenzie agreed to go out on a date?”

“I already told you that.” Will huffed. “It was back in the dressing room.” 

“No, that’s what it says here in this file, but it’s not what you told me. You asked her, yes – but she didn’t reply. When did she reply?”

“I don’t know…” Will dismissed him. “It must have been after the meeting with Charlie or something.”

“No it wasn’t. Because after the meeting she suddenly became your co-worker, and initially you would have worried about the conflict of interest; which is why you didn’t ask her again as soon as you left Charlie’s office.”

“Oh really?” Will feigned interest. 

“Yes.”

“Well, obviously you know me so well that I don’t even need to be here!” He replied snidely. 

“When did you ask her out?” Habib persisted, ignoring Will’s sarcasm. 

“Why are you so determined to find out about our first date?” Will lashed out in frustration.

“Why are you so determined not to answer me?” The doctor responded measuredly. 

Will folded his arms antagonistically. “You know, I’ve been thinking about your little parable about colour blind Greeks and all that.” 

“Oh?” The psychiatrist raised an interested eyebrow.

“Yeah. It’s complete crap.” Will spat bitterly. “All that stuff about how humans never needed a name until they could create it, how there are no naturally blue things in the world – it’s complete crap, because you know what is blue?”

“What?”

“The fucking sky!” Will yelled.

Dr Habib simply smiled to himself. “Is it?”

“For the love of - ” Will threw up his hands. 

“There’s actually an interesting story about that – ”

“I bet there is.” He interrupted sarcastically. 

The doctor watched him for a moment, then sat up in his chair, bringing his face in to the light. “Tell you what, we’ll make a deal. You tell me about asking Mackenzie out on a date, and I’ll tell you about the sky.”

Will stared at him blankly. “That sounds like the worst fucking deal of all time.”

“Or we could just sit here in silence?” Habib shrugged. 

“Silence is good.” 

They watched each other, unspeaking, as the muffled sounds of the New York traffic crept through the dark wooden room. 

Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The silence pressed down on him like a vice, dragging him back to his haunted past. 

“Ok so you’re right.” He gave up after a moment, letting out a deep sigh. “I didn’t ask her after the meeting because she became my EP.”

“So, what changed?” Habib asked carefully.

“Nothing.” Will gave a small sad smile. “I just decided not to give a fuck.”

0000000000000000000000000000000

Will was exhausted. 

The past day had been a complete blur of panic, pressure and adrenaline, but he loved every minute of it. Only now, as he finally sat down on the temporary chair in his large, empty office, was he able to catch his breath. 

He leaned back leisurely and slowly loosened his tie. It was not a perfect show, that’s for sure, but it was solid. It was something he could be proud of. And with Mac’s voice in his ear he felt something he never felt before on camera - he felt invincible. 

She shook his hand again after the broadcast, and gave him a broad shining smile before turning to the crew and rambled out a passionate thank-you speech. They were all over-worked and over-tired, but he sensed they believed in her, that they believed in her aspirations. 

Will believed in her. 

He was broken out of his reverie by the low drone of a vacuum. Outside the newsroom was empty, save for a solitary cleaner. The crew had enough sense to go home as soon as they could, but Will felt no urge to leave. Sitting alone in the bare office, with only few disconnected cords decorating his solitary desk, he knew this was were he belonged, that he was home. 

With a tired, contented sigh, Will stood up from the chair and wandered slowly to the door then pushed it open. The cleaner looked up for a second from his vacuum then carried on his work as Will placed his hands in his pockets and surveyed the newsroom like his new dominion.

A light caught him in the corner of his eye. A few offices down, someone was still in their room. 

Mac. 

Will debated whether or not he should speak to her. The last 32 hours they were both caught in a rush, frantically laying down the tracks before the oncoming train, that they never had a chance to figure out where they stood. But there were looks. There were moments. He was sure there were. 

Before he realised what he was doing, he found himself walking straight to Mac’s office and lightly tapping on her door. 

“Come in!” Her muffled English accent rang through the frosted glass. 

Will pushed the door open to find Mac sitting on the floor of her empty office, sorting through a mess of files that lay sprawled out along the floor. 

“Oh!” She said with a smile as he entered the room. “I thought you’d left!”

“I thought you’d left, but I guess you were just swallowed up by bureaucracy.” Will nodded to the sea of papers.

“Yes…” Mac sighed, glaring ruefully at the mess. “Patrick White thought it would be a good idea to offload some of his work before he shipped off on his Bermudan vacation.”

She slowly pushed up herself from the floor when Will instinctively offered his hand.

“Well, look at the bright side.” He said kindly, as he helped her up. “At least you’re not the one who’ll be stuck in Morning Show purgatory.”

“I’m not a morning person.” She grumbled, almost to herself. 

“I can imagine.” Will smiled, then realising he still had her hand, slowly let go. 

“So!” Mac spoke up before the silence became too tense. “What did you want to see me about?”

“I just wanted to say, good show tonight.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” She smiled proudly. 

“Yes it was.” He nodded slowly, when suddenly a burst of adrenaline rushed to his head, forcing him to speak out. “Actually, that’s not why I came in here. I mean, yes, it was a good show but that not why… 

Basically I’ve only had a short moment since the show ended to catch my breath and to think about things, but it didn’t take me long at all to decide that I don’t give a fuck about work place relations or ACN rules, because there is something going on between us – something that, for the life of me, I will never be able to explain – but there is something. And even though you’re my EP and there will, no doubt, be a conflict of interest - I don’t care. Because I still really want to take you out to dinner.”

Mac looked at him in stunned silence, her breath clipping as he carefully took a step closer. 

“So are you doing anything tomorrow night?” 

Mac opened her mouth then closed it, bit down on her lip hard and furrowed her small brow. “I’d love to Will but I’m…” Her voice was weak. “I’m sort of… seeing someone.”

Will’s chest dropped like a ton of bricks. 

“Of course you are.” He muttered, putting on a forced smile. Stupid man, of course she was seeing someone. How could a woman like her be single? “I was being presumptive, I’m sorry.”

He tried to back away as her sad eyes watched him stumble. 

“It’s not that I care about work place rules…relations…all that – ” She tried. “But you know how it is.”

“Of course.” Will forced a stiff nod as he mercifully reached the door. “I completely understand. But it doesn’t matter. Just forget it. Get some sleep. You deserve some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow… I just wanted to say, great show!”

“Great show.” She echoed sadly, standing alone in her pile of papers, as he quickly opened the door and escaped the office, his head pounding as he cursed himself under his breath. 

Of course she was seeing someone. 

Of course she was. 

How could he have been so stupid?


	5. Chapter 5

“Congratulations!” Charlie announced triumphantly, pulling out an envelope with a flourish as Will and Mac entered his office. “You beat Nancy Grace!”

“I’d rather that be a natural occurrence than something to be proud of,” Mac countered as Will pulled out a chair for her. “But I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Especially when the beggars once struggled to tie with the blonde wig on an air horn.” Charlie offered as Will moved to his own seat. 

It had been one week since they took over News Night. The crew was slowly coming together after the abrupt power change, even though the intimidating shadow of Harvey Moss still hung over the studio. 

It had also been a week since Will asked MacKenzie out to dinner. The morning after, he could tell she was trying to give him space and let him have his little victories, but the thought that she was handling him with cotton wool or even pitying him just made Will crazy, so despite his crushed hopes, he tried as hard as he could to carry on as if he had never stepped into her office that night. And to his great relief, she quickly fell into the precarious line he had drawn: both aware that there was an unintended connection between them, but both not daring to speak of it again. 

“So,” Will tried to hide his nerves, the results of his public appraisal clutched within his boss’ fingers. “What are the final ratings?”

Charlie handed the envelope to Mac with a grin. “First week, you’re up 57%.”

“That’s fantastic!” Mac exclaimed, taking the file off him as Will let out a secret sigh of relief. 

“Which means you came 4th.” Charlie added anticlimactically. 

“Oh.” Mac’s voice fell, but then she shrugged and gave a smile. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter. We didn’t come here to get the ratings, we came here to do the news!”

“Does Leona Lewis know that PBS has taken over her flagship program?” Will looked from Mac to Charlie in amusement. 

“Hey Adam Smith, I’ll have you know I’d rather strive to inform the masses then just preach to the choir.” Mac rebuffed playfully. “Plus… I much prefer the ACN paycheck.”

“Aha!” Will exclaimed in victory. 

“What?” Mac raised her eyebrows defensively. “I like clothes.”

“Clothes are important.” Will nodded in feigned seriousness. 

“Shush.”

“Did you just shush me?” He looked at her in bemusement. 

“Yes.” She replied confidently. 

“Charlie, I swear to god she is worth every penny you pay her.” He turned to his boss with a smile. 

“You bet I am!” Mac interjected. 

“Am I allowed to see the breakdowns?” Will turned to her as she sneaked a look at the ratings. 

“No.” She said simply, sliding the papers back into the envelope. 

“That’s withholding information.”  
“No, that’s keeping you focused on things that actually matter, rather then wondering how many 18-25 year olds stumble upon your show while trying to find Rich Heiresses Gone Wild.” 

“There’s a show called Rich Heiresses Gone Wild?”

“Probably.”

“I worry about the state of television…”

“Which is why we’re here to fix it!” Mac said proudly then put the envelope in her large leather folder. “And that’s why you’re not going to look at ratings till we figure out what our show is. I won’t have you influenced by a few meaningless squiggles on a page.”

“You know he can just read the breakdowns on the internet, right?” Charlie interjected with a smirk. 

Mac turned to Will with stern glare.

“I won’t!” Will raised his hands up in defence. “I won’t. If you don’t want me to see the ratings, then I won’t. Trust me.”

“I trust you.” She said softly, appeased by his gaze as her words stirred something inside Will he had tried to repress. 

“And I trust you both, despite my better judgement.” Charlie interrupted with a grumble. “Which is why I’ll tell you both not to worry about the ratings right now. Harvey Moss’s show, respectable as it was, garnered as much public enthusiasm as a sweater vest Knit-Off. Leona Lewis has been waiting for him to retire since he got his first white hair, so you’re already in her good books, no matter what happens.”

“What are you trying to say?” Will asked curiously. 

“I’m trying to say don’t get cold feet.” Charlie’s gaze turned serious. “You’re going after the President’s nomination of Harriet Miers when every other news outlet is letting it fall to the way side. You’re going to get a lot of flack saying you’re just some upstart new show looking to grab attention by ruffling a few feathers – but don’t let them get to you. You ruffle those feathers. You make sure you keep ruffling them a week from now, even a year from now. Then, not only will you finally have a program you’ll be proud of, but you’ll also be able to open a pillow shop on the side.”

“I wonder why I keep coming back to you for advice…” Will looked at him in bemusement. 

“Because I’m right!” Charlie exclaimed proudly. “Also because I’m your boss.” 

“To keep going after Harriet Miers we need more solid material.” Mac interjected, seriously. “Otherwise how ever right we may be in our efforts, to everyone else it’s just going to look like a personal grudge.”

“Have you got her past statements from her time as a White House Counsel?” Charlie offered.

“We’ve got a junior producer looking at them now. But there’s a lot to filter through.” She answered. 

“I’ve got some contacts on the Hill.” Will spoke up. “On both sides of the aisle. I can see if they have any thoughts about her nomination.”

“They’d all be off the record.” Charlie shrugged. “You won’t be able to use any of it.”

“No – but it just might show us where to dig.” Mac’s eyes lit up with inspiration and turned to Will. “Get on to your contacts, hound them if you need to – any thoughts will help.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Will smiled as suddenly, a small beeping filled the room. 

Mac looked at Will expectantly, to his confusion, as the high-pitched beep continued. 

“I think that’s your phone…” He tried.

“Oh!” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she pulled out her cell phone from her pocket like some alien object. 

“How long have you had your Blackberry?” Will watched her in amusement. 

“Oh, about a year…” Mac tried to work the small buttons on her phone. “Aha!” She squinted at the screen. “It seems someone is waiting for me downstairs.” She bundled up her folder and stood up from the chair. “I’ll leave you to it. But remember! No ratings!”

“No ratings.” Will recited.  
“No breakdowns!” She continued, backing out to the door.

“No breakdowns.”

“No other influence besides my own, rather excellent, direction! …Oh, and Charlie’s too, of course.” She smiled.

“Don’t you have someone waiting for you downstairs?” Will quipped, as smile rising to his lips. 

“Shush!” She waved him off then sauntered out of the office. 

“She certainly is worth every penny I pay her.” Charlie mused as they watched her leave. 

“Don’t I know it.” Will sighed and sunk back into his chair.

“Oh?” Charlie’s bushy eyebrows rose up in interest. 

Will felt exposed under his boss’ attentive gaze as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I sort have… may have… asked her out to dinner last week.”

“But she’s already dating someone.” Charlie remarked matter-of-factly.

“I know!” Will exclaimed, then suddenly stopped in realisation. “Wait – hold on – you knew?”

“Sure I did.” He shrugged. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Will cried out incredulously. 

“I told you just then!”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? You know, when I was fawning over her like some doe-eyed teenager? You could have called time-out and pulled me aside before I made a complete fool of myself!”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing football.”

“You know what I mean!” Will huffed then fell back into his chair in defeat. 

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he studied him perceptively. “So, you like her?”

“I…” Will didn’t know how to answer. One week and he was already confused about how he felt. It seemed so strange to him that after such as short period of time, the word like seemed completely inadequate to describe his feelings towards his new EP. In fact, he could not think of any word that was adequate. Expect maybe stumped. 

“I… yeah.” He sighed. “I guess I do.”

“Well, I certainly can’t blame you” Charlie offered. “She’s one hell of a woman.”

“But it’s not just that, it’s…” Will tried to explain when the words failed him again. “It’s…” He rested his head in his hand with a weary sigh. “I’m in the deep end here, Charlie.”

“Hmm…” He nodded seriously. “It happens to worst of us, son.”

Will could help but let out a small, wry laugh as he looked back up to his boss. “How did you know she was dating somebody?”

“I was first introduced to her at a conference… along with her boyfriend.”

The word stuck in Will’s gut. “Anyone I know?” He asked, not really wanting the answer. 

“Well… yes.” Charlie started carefully. “He’s in print journalism.”

“Oh god.” Will groaned. 

“And he goes by the name of Brian Brenner.” 

“For fuck’s sake.” He slapped his hand to his face. “Him?”

“It seems so.” Charlie answered simply. 

“Well, I supposed he’s not a complete idiot after all for not letting someone like MacKenzie go…” Will sighed. 

“Maybe not.” Charlie shrugged. “But he’s still a complete idiot where it counts.”

“I can’t believe she’s dating someone in print journalism…” Will muttered to himself. 

“Well, someone’s got to throw those guys a bone.” Charlie smiled. “Try not to think about it too much. It’ll get easier.”

“Will it?”

“Probably not.”

Will burst out in grim laughter when he was interrupted as the phone starting ringing on his boss’ desk.

“Hello hello?” Charlie picked up the phone cheerfully when suddenly his face fell. He muttered a few sombre words, then slowly placed the receiver down, his eyes ghostly pale. 

“What is it?” Will asked carefully, sitting up in his chair.

“Harvey’s wife. She passed away this morning.”


	6. Chapter 6

Will’s feet automatically led him through the bustling bullpen and towards MacKenzie’s office. 

All week he had tried as hard as he could to distance himself from her, but it was a hopeless mission from the start, not only for the glaring fact that they worked side by side together, twelve hours a day - but also because he subconsciously kept concocting excuses to pop into her office, asking her opinion on his wardrobe, for thoughts on excerpts from his rundown, for any trivial reason he could fabricate. 

Every time he stepped out of her office he swore he would stop, swore he would keep it strictly professional, but then he would read an interesting article on the web and find himself halfway to her door with a printout before he realised what he was doing. 

She had only left him in Charlie’s office five minutes ago, they had a pitch meeting in less than half an hour, he was going to end up spending half the day talking with her anyway - yet there he was, heading straight to her frosted glass office, the sombre news of death driving him forward. 

He gave a quick tap on the door then pushed it open, not thinking to wait for a response. 

But Mac was not alone. 

Standing in front of her was a slim brown haired man, handing her a crinkled bookstore bag. Mac took the paper bag hesitantly into her hand when she looked up in surprise to Will’s unexpected entrance. 

“Will!” She exclaimed in a small voice. The brown haired man turned around to face him, revealing the trademark disapproving gaze of one Brian Brenner. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have barged in…” Will tried to cover himself, instantly regretting his decision to enter as he slowly backed up to the door. 

“That’s alight!” Mac took in a quick breath, slightly flustered as she clutched on to the brown bag. “Ah, Will, this is Brian, my um…boyfriend… but then again you’ve already met, haven’t you?”

“A couple of times.” Brian smirked. “Though usually he’s gripping one of my articles, telling me all the reasons why I’m wrong.”

Will’s mouth twisted in to a forced smile. “I thought you appreciated constructive criticism.”

“I thought you did too.” The writer quipped. 

Mac interjected with a small nervous laugh as her eyes flicked back from Brian and Will, staring each other down in passive aggression. 

“I hear you’re looking to start up a news blog.” Will tried amicably, after seeing the flash of worry cross Mac’s face. 

“I am.” Brian replied simply, rooted in his spot. 

“Well…” Will tried to pick up the pieces of his failed conversation. “Good luck with that.” His eyes flicked to Mac then back. “But I see I’m interrupting. I’ll come back later.”

“That’s alright Will, Brian was just on his way out.” Mac gave him a kind smile then turned back to her boyfriend as he watched her intently. 

“Yes I was.” He gave Mac a strange look. “I’ll see you in a couple of days when I get back.” He moved in to kiss her on the cheek, but paused half way and went in for her mouth instead, taking her in for a quick, wet kiss. 

A sharp pain stabbed in Will’s chest, which he tried to swallow down, flicking his eyes away from the embracing couple. 

“Bye.” Mac voice whispered softly as Will looked back to see Brian step away. He nodded simply then turned to the door, eyeing Will as he walked out. 

“Keep up the good work.” Brian gave him a dismissive smile. 

“You too.” Will forced as he stepped out of the way, letting Brian through to the door.

Will tried to hide his sigh of relief as the writer left the room. He shouldn’t have been feeling anything. Awkwardness, yes, but he shouldn’t have been feeling a burning in his stomach that felt a little bit like anger. He had no claim over MacKenzie, no right, no stake, no say – she had her own life and she had her own boyfriend, so why did have this fire inside that he was so desperately trying to quench? 

Or was it just jealously? 

The image of their kiss flashed in Will’s mind, causing him to quickly shake his head and turn back to Mac, as she remained standing in front of her desk, still clutching on to the brown bag. 

“He’s off to Washington.” She said awkwardly. 

“D.C.?” Will asked stupidly, desperate to appear casual. 

“Yes.”

“Nice.” He forced a smile. “Well, the pitch meeting is in half and no doubt you need to get your notes together, so I’ll just get out of your way.” He turned to the door. 

“What did you come to see me about?” Mac spoke out as he tried to leave.

“About?” Will turned back.  
“Just now. Did Charlie bring up anything after I left?” She looked at him curiously.

“What? No. There was nothing. Nothing important.” He brushed off with a smile. “Oh, except he did get a call. Apparently Harvey Moss’s wife passed away this morning.”

“That’s horrible.” Mac said sombrely. “Do you know how Moss is taking it?”

“No doubt as bad as any of us would.” Will offered. “But if there’s one thing that man can do, it’s persevere.” She gave a small, sad smile as Will continued. “But yeah, that was it. Just thought you should know. See you in half an hour.”

“See you then.” She added simply, turning from him as she carefully placed the paper bag on her desk. Will watched her carefully for a moment as questions rose to the tip of his tongue before he forced them back. She didn’t need her co-worker annoying her with personal questions, because that’s just what he was. 

A co-worker. 

Nothing more. 

He needed to keep reminding himself that before he did anything stupid. 

Again. 

And so, watching her delicately tuck a strand of her dark brown hair behind her small pale ear, Will let out a silent sigh and opened the door, heading back to his office, and back to his side of the line.

Where this time, he would stay.


	7. Chapter 7

Will’s heart rate quickened as he listened to the senator’s voice cautiously muttering down the telephone line. This was a definite scoop, an overdue payoff from his connections to the Hill, but how on earth could they get it on the show if it is was off the record?

Will furrowed his brow but put on a cheery voice for the senator, thanking him genially before reminding him about their long overdue poker game. As the politician’s now jovial voice responded in his ear, Will spun back in his chair and glanced out of his office, when a pair of dark eyes caught his gaze, floating between the pale frosted lines of his glass wall. 

He tried to stop the smile tugging on his lips while he followed the hovering eyes as they moved to his door. 

As politely as he could, he quickly said goodbye to the senator and put down the phone as his door slowly opened, revealing the owner of the pair of dark eyes as she bit her lip in a hopeful smile. 

“Well?” MacKenzie edged into the office.

“Well what?” Will feigned obliviousness. He knew he shouldn’t tease her. It made him forget where they stood, forget that there should be nothing between them, but when she stood in front of him like an obstinate little ball of passion, he just couldn’t help himself. 

“What did Senator Graham say?” She questioned as she stepped closer to his desk. 

“How did you know I was talking to Lindsey Graham?” He leaned back in his chair in surprise. 

“I have my ways…” She lifted up her chin, smugly. 

“What ways are those?” 

“My super secret EP ways, which you will never master.” 

“You asked Katherine, didn’t you?”

MacKenzie glared at him. 

“Ok so maybe I did.” She dismissed as she sat down on the chair. “But that’s your own fault for getting the secretary to put out calls for you.”

“Well at least we now know where her loyalty stands.”

“My dear Mr McAvoy, there should never be any rivalry between us for the staff’s loyalty.” She said theatrically. “But if there was, I would totally win.” She quickly added.   
Will tried to hold down chuckle. “That’s just because you stuff them full of free food.” He gestured out to the conference room, now full of hungry producers and interns, rifling through pizza slices and transcript notes. 

MacKenzie had asked them all to stay back a little while longer after the broadcast to make them hone down their story on Harriet Miers. Will was amazed how enthusiastically they agreed to the extra work, considering she had only been their EP for barely two weeks. But it seemed he was not the only one would couldn’t resist her mad charm.

“I was about to ask you in for a slice when Katherine told me you on the phone. So what did Senator Graham say?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Have the staff found anything interesting?” He sidestepped, finding a strange and unexpected enjoyment in stringing her along – something he had to force himself not to overanalyse. 

“Other than the fact that Miers has an almost fanatical devotion to the President – nothing much.” She shrugged. 

“Well, the man has kept her employed for the past ten years, you can understand a bit of loyalty.”

“Loyalty is one thing - she called him the most brilliant man she ever met.” 

“Maybe she has a weakness for the class clown.” Will offered. His casual acquaintance with the then ‘campaign advisor’ for Bush 41 meant he could never fully ridicule the President. He might not have been completely suited for the life in the Oval Office, but Will knew he was a genuinely nice guy, with good intentions, and a wickedly funny tongue. 

“Or maybe she just hasn’t met many other men.” MacKenzie replied drolly. “Speaking of men – what did Senator Graham say?” She reiterated.

“He congratulated me on my new promotion.” Will smiled to himself as he leaned back in his chair. 

“How nice.” She said sarcastically.

“I thought so too.” He added smugly, taking amusement from her frustrated face.

“Anything else or did he just call to stroke your ego?” 

“Well, he did mention that he and Senator Brownback have started drafting a letter to the White House, requesting legal memoranda and briefs in order to get any idea where she stands on crucial positions, since she won’t state them in person – and that her questionnaire with the Senate Judiciary Committee was completed so poorly that they requested for her to take it again. But that’s about it.” 

“Take it again?” Mac repeated incredulously. “What is this? The Supreme Court or Junior High?”

“Well I think Congress is more immature than a day care centre so I’d say it’s a step up.” Will joked, his heart rising a little as she cracked a faint, wry smile. 

“I can’t believe they’re trying to get her through the nomination.” She shook her head in disbelief, when she gave a sigh, her face turning solemn as she looked up at him. “We need to get this story out there.” She said earnestly. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know yet…” Her small brow crinkled up in thought. “But we’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will.” He replied softly, a small smile rising to his lips as his eyes locked with hers. A small swell of heat from his chest told him he needed to get out of this moment, fast. “But right now I need some pizza.” He quickly shot out, tearing his gaze from her intoxicating eyes as he pulled himself up from his chair. 

“Have you finally decided to honour your minions with your presence?” Mac stood up with him as they headed for the door. 

“Depends if they finished all the pepperoni.” He opened it for her as she walked past, close enough for her perfume to waft by him, his breath hitching a little. 

MacKenzie had just opened her mouth in response when suddenly a loud crash sounded out from the empty studio. Will’s head snapped to the darkened room when he thought he saw a familiar figure move in the shadows. 

It couldn’t be. 

“What on earth are they doing in there?” Mac’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and she made a step towards the set. 

“No.” Will spoke quickly, stopping her in her tracks. “I’ll check it out. You should talk to the crew.”

“Half the crew are no doubt destroying our cameras right now.” She took another step.

He put up his hand to stop her. “Then I’ll tell them to knock it off.” He tried his best to get her into the conference room. If he truly saw whom he thought he saw, he needed to go in there alone. “You should tell the staff about Senator Graham.”

MacKenzie looked at him strangely for a moment, then put on a shrug. “Don’t blame me when they eat the last slice of pepperoni.” 

Will let out a small sigh of relief as she headed for the late night meeting, then quickly turned and silently made for the glass studio doors, cautiously taking a look over his shoulder to make sure everyone was gathered and busy in the brightened conference room, then pushed through the door and in to the darkened studio. 

It was quiet. 

Will’s eyes adjusted as he saw a small silhouette move near the anchor desk. 

“Well now, if it isn’t Mediocre McAvoy.” A gravelly voice spat from the dark. 

Will quickly headed towards the familiar voice as the wrinkled face of Harvey Moss materialise from the shadows, his eyes glazed over but angry, in a way Will recognised all too well as the faint smell of hard liquor drifted in.

“Sir, I am so sorry for your loss, but I need to get you out of here right now.” He moved around the anchor desk and lifted up his hand to guide him away from the chair when the old man jerked out of his way. 

“Don’t you dare try to manhandle me, boy!” He growled. “You’re just some upstart little kiss arse, but I’m the face of Atlantis Cable News!”

Will tried desperately to swallow his anger as he let out a small frustrated sigh. “No, sir – you’re drunk. And you need to come with me before the staff see you like this.”

“The staff are here?” The old man’s eyes piqued in interest. “Go – send them all in boy, I need to talk to them. This whole changeover was a mistake, I shall be taking back the anchor desk.” He slurred. 

“I’m sorry, but you won’t.” Will spoke carefully. 

“I will or I’ll send you back to Hick Town, Nebraska faster than you can open that spineless mouth of yours.” Moss glared at him. “You don’t think I see through your little charade? Hmm?” He leaned in close to Will. “You don’t think I know exactly what you’re doing, with your little Supreme Court Special? Look, I’m the new anchor, and I can do the ‘real’ news.” Will could feel blood rise up in anger as the old man continued in his drunken rant. 

“It’s bullshit! It’s all bullshit. You’re just as bad as the rest of them – following your nice, comfortable, insider line, taking in their press releases and petty partisan strategies then spewing it out to the public and labelling it ‘news’. And here you stand, thinking that you’re going to be different. Thinking that you’re going to change the game back to the old days of Watergate and Vietnam – well let me tell you something, son: you won’t. Sure, you can play Cronkite as much as you want, but in the long run you’ll fall back in line with the others. I know you will, because you’re weak. You’re weak.”

Moss stared at him directly in his eyes as Will’s hands gripped into fists by his side. 

“So go back to your little correspondent post.” Moss broke his gaze and waved him off with a clumsy wrinkled hand. “I’m taking back News Night.”

Will took in a cautious breath as he stepped closer to him. “You can’t sir. You don’t work here anymore.” He said calmly. 

“I am the face of Atlantis Cable News!” The old man flared up in anger. “I gave my life to this company! I gave my life to this show! I only handed the damn thing over to you so I could make up for lost time with my wife and now – ” Moss suddenly cut his loud tirade as his face froze in a painful grimace. “Now…” He murmured in a ghostly echo. 

“Sir…” Will softly spoke up. “I need to get you out of here. The staff… you don’t want them to see you like this.”

Harvey Moss’s blood shot eyes flicked over to Will as he slowly came down from his angry state. Taking in slow, shaky breaths, he looked Will up and down with a wary gaze. 

“What, boy?” He growled weakly. “You’re not going to parade me out to my crew as the lonely drunk I am?”

“No.” Will replied simply. 

“Why the hell not?” Moss spat. 

“Because no matter how much you hate me, I still respect you, sir – and I think you deserve your staff to remember as you are in the billboard outside this office, rather than as you are right now. You lost your wife. You have every right to mourn. And you have every right to mourn in private.”

Moss became quiet as he studied Will carefully for a long moment.

“I’m going to go to the fire exit.” He broke his silence, grumbling in uneasy concession. 

Will tried to cover his sigh of relief. “I’ll keep the staff in the conference room.”

Moss let out a gruff snort of understanding then awkwardly pulled himself out from the anchor’s chair and trudged back into the darkness of the studio, when Will heard his footsteps stop. 

“Regrets stay with you your whole life, McAvoy.” Moss’s voice growled from the shadows. “Don’t screw this is up.”

There were a few soft footsteps, the creak of a door opening, then he was gone. 

Will slumped back to the desk, letting out a sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. Slowly, he turned stood up and turned to the studio door, faintly illuminated by the light of the office, when suddenly his eyes caught something move in the command room, overlooking the set. 

There was MacKenzie McHale, head set on, frozen in her spot as she stared at him with large dark eyes. 

She saw everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Will’s breath gripped in his throat as he quickly drove through studio door and around to the darkened command centre. Pushing open the heavy glass he saw the shadow of MacKenzie McHale turn on her spot from overlooking the set. 

“He was drunk.” He quickly blurted out, almost pleading, before his mind could conjure up a more suitable conversation stater. 

“I could tell.” Mac replied simply in a quiet voice.

“I mean…” Will tried to start as he stepped in closer. “All those things he said. He was drunk.” He found himself switching to defence. 

A faint light caught Mac’s face as her large dark eyes studied him carefully. “And you just stood there and took it.”

“He was drunk.” Will found himself repeating, feeling exposed under her focused gaze. “Don’t tell anyone.” He begged, trying to slow down his heart rate as he fixed upon Mac’s enigmatic gaze. 

Time seemed to pass achingly slow as she stood under him in silence with a small furrowed brow.

“I…” She started carefully, when all of a sudden her expression switched to its professional self. “ - We should get back to the others.” She said, softened with a small smile.

“Of course.” He quickly agreed, thankful she had dropped the conversation. Swiftly, he moved to the door and swung it open for Mac as they both passed out of the shadows of the command centre and into the bright light of the newsroom. 

They walked side by side in forced silence, between the maze of desks, towards the chatter and laughter of the staff.

“You should let them see it.” Mac’s soft voice suddenly sung out beside him. 

“See what?” Will looked to her, confused.

She paused for a moment, bringing him to a halt with her, then looked him straight in the eyes. “You have a good heart, Will. You should let them see it.”

His mouth opened for a stunned reply, but Mac had turned away and headed straight for the conference room, pushing through the glass door to the boisterous meeting, leaving Will in her wake, his heart skipping a beat.

00000000000000000000000000000

MacKenzie was distracted. 

Will had marvelled at her frantic attention span, jumping from one subject to the other, but this was something different. She seemed quiet. 

MacKenzie was never quiet. 

The day passed slowly as Will watched her from a distance as she softly rubbed her forehead in thought throughout the pitch meeting, nodded indifferently as the design team showed her new title screens, and forced a small smile when he made a joke about diplomatic immunity. 

Something was weighing heavily on her mind, but Will told himself to give her space, to stay on the correct side of the line. She was still functioning, the show was still running smoothly, so what reason did he have intrude into her privacy?

He missed their banter throughout the broadcast. The voice in his ear was short, succinct, clinical. Will tried not to be disappointed but he had grown so used to her bright omnipotent commentary that when they rolled the credits he knew he had to step over the line. Just a little bit. 

As the staff slowly cleared out for the night, Will wandered over to Mac’s office and knocked on her glass door, the dull sound ringing out across the now quiet newsroom. 

“Yes?” Came a small voice from inside. 

He carefully edged the door open. Mac was sitting behind her desk, face in hand, staring at the rumpled brown paper bag that stood upon her desk with a furrowed brow, as if she was perplexed by its very existence. 

“Hi.” Will spoke out softly, causing her to turn away from the bag. 

“Hi.” She replied simply. 

He remained by the door, cautious to step too far. “So, long day?”

Mac looked at him in silence for a second then gave a small, tired sigh. “Long day.”

Will found his opening. “The staff’s headed out to the bar – did you want to get a drink? A bite to eat?”

“I’m not really in the mood for going out tonight – ”

“ – Or if you want, I’ve got a bottle of 21 year old scotch in my office?” He tried again, hopefully.

A small, weary smile rose up on her lips. “You’re on.”

Will gave a grin then hurried off to his office. A few minutes later he returned, fingers gripped around the whiskey bottle and two mugs, while the other hand precariously balanced a tray of pastries. 

“A dose of Highland Medicine,” He said as he laid the provisions on the desk. “And an assortment of stale pastries from the conference room.”

Will sat down opposite Mac and watched as she grasped for the bottle of scotch and poured a generous amount in her ACN mug. 

“I’ve worked here for a few years,” He started as he poured his own glass. “Been to god knows how many meetings in that conference room, but never once have I seen someone touch the pastries in the middle of the table." He picked up a danish and examined it in his hands. “And yet, every day, there they are, forced upon us by what must be the world’s most stubborn baker.”

Mac let out a small smile as she sipped on her liquor. “How does it rate?”

He took a bite and feigned deep thought. “Edible.” He said, mouth half full of danish. “But good enough to make up for I’m guessing has been a bad day…” Will tried, watching as she glanced away out to the window, hugging the mug to her small lips. Falling into silence, he worried he crossed the line to quickly, when suddenly her voice spoke out.

“Brian dumped me.” She said matter-of-factly, still looking away. 

Will’s heart quickened with excitement, which he tried to swallow down. This was not a happy thing. He should not be happy about it. He forced on a sombre face. “I’m so sorry.” He said quietly. 

“What?” She swung her eyes back to him. “Don’t be. It was…” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t even know what it was.”

Will struggled to find any sort of comforting words he could give her, but submitted to silence as she took another sip.

“We dated for a year and I don’t even know it was.” She mused, her brow furrowed. “Story of my entire love life, I suppose. But the man thought I was getting too serious, that I was suffocating him.” 

She looked back at the brown bag in bemusement. “He came all the way to my office to return my hairdryer that I left at his apartment, thinking I was intentionally moving in on his territory like some all-consuming weed. The appliance had to be ripped out and handed back before it took root and spawned razor blades, perfume, panties and, god forbid, an engagement ring!” 

She reached out and grabbed a cinnamon bun from the tray. “Never mind the fact that I actually did leave it there by accident, or that I am probably far more afraid of commitment than he is. Never mind, because here it is anyway, and here I am too: Dumped with a stale pastry.”

She took a small bite from the bun, munching on it determinately, then gave a tired sigh. “I don’t know… I think I’m done with men.”

“Well,” Will tried “Good thing I’m a hermaphrodite.” 

Mac burst out in laughter. His breathe fluttered as the room filled with her sudden burst of joy, till he couldn’t help but fall with her, chuckling deeply as he watched her face light up from its dark reverie. 

Mac finally leaned back in her chair and looked at Will coyly, a smile gracing her lips as she took another sip of whisky. “You’re not just a man, though. You’re Billy.”

Will had to quench a grin. He never liked the childish nickname, but coming from MacKenzie it sounded like a precious honor. “No one’s called me Billy since I was ten.”

“When I was ten they called me Stampy.” She mumbled over her mug. 

“I can’t imagine why…” He gave a wry smile. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a determined child!” Mac cried out in defence. 

“I never said there was.” Will backed off with a smile. 

“I wasn’t spoilt.”

“No.”

“Just a little stubborn.”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Although, my dad did get a bit miffed when I used to stand on my chair at the dinner table so I could be taller than everyone else.” She quickly added.

“How the hell did you manage to eat your food?” He asked, perplexed. 

“With determination!” She exclaimed proudly, giving a little smirk before taking another sip. 

Will laughed as she looked back at him, her smile fading down as she took him in. 

“Thanks for the drink, Billy.” She said softly. 

Will’s heart raced as his eyes met hers. “You’re welcome.”

“I’d thank you for the pastries too, but to be honest they were rather crap.” She smiled. 

“Least we know now why no-one touches them.” He placed his half eaten danish back on the tray and looked back at Mac, her gaze sharp as she studied him carefully. 

“I should go.” She said after a moment, almost reluctantly.   
“You don’t want another drink?” Will asked quickly, hand shooting to the bottle. 

“No.” She said kindly, sitting up in her chair. “I should probably go home. And sleep. Or whatever normal people are supposed to do.” 

“Of course.” He nodded, and stood up with her. 

She gave a smile then gathered her mess of folders. Will saw her leather bag on the desk and picked it up for her, holding it out so she could swing it easily over her shoulder when she managed the pile of paperwork in her hands. 

“You know they invented this new fangled electronic notebook that can store thousands of documents in an orderly way?” Will teased as she walked to the door, clutching her work. 

“Trying to introduce me to technology? You must have more of a death wish than I thought.” She smiled as he opened the door for her.

“Just determined.” He corrected, his voice soft as he stepped slightly towards her. 

“Good night boss.” She said carefully, meeting his eyes. 

“Good night boss.” He echoed, then with a painful pull on his heart, she turned away and headed through the empty newsroom. 

A flutter of realisation ran through his chest. 

She was free. 

He was free. 

But would that be enough?


	9. Chapter 9

MacKenzie's small head popped through the door of Will's office.

"Got a draft script yet?" She enquired brightly.

Will looked up from his desk in confusion and checked his watch. "It's 4:05."

"Yes?" She agreed, not seeing his point.

"We're not on air for another three hours."

"Good to see you've remembered." She teased as she strolled into the office.

"Three hours in the news, anything can happen!" He continued, putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair. "New Zealand could invade Russia! Andrew Lloyd Webber could write a goodmusical! And you want my rundown now?"

"Not the rundown: the draft rundown, thank you very much." She corrected, placing her hands upon his desk. "And I'm not the one who's been running page after page of drafts to my office every day for a month like some over enthusiastic school-boy. So, Mr McAvoy," She leaned over the desk. "Got a draft script yet?"

Will stared at her, determined not to give in, but looking into her dark grey eyes he realised it was hopeless from the start. Of course he would buckle. He was surprised he had managed a whole week without asking her out, after Brian had dumped her. It took every amount of effort he had not to sprint over that line. But she didn't need a rebound, and he didn't need her to rush into anything without feeling for him at least a small amount of what he felt for her, otherwise it would shatter him.

For this moment though, he knew he had to give in. Breaking away from her gaze, he sighed in defeat and reached under his notebook to pull out some scrawled upon paper and handed it to the smirking MacKenzie.

"Enjoy." Will said gruffly as she flicked through the papers. "But don't underestimate the New Zealanders – they headbutt as a sign of love."

Mac scanned the first page. "Saddam Hussein's trial, Scooter Libby to be charged with perjury…"

"I'm about to get another confirmation that Libby'll be indicted tomorrow." He interjected.

"That man has too many enemies…"

"That man is Chief of Staff to Dick Cheney; enemies are part of the job description."

"Well, just remember to throw salt before you give the news. I don't want the Vice President swooping in to smite you at your desk."

"I've carried garlic on me since Bush 41."

Mac let a small smile crack on her lips as she finished the last page. "Good." She said simply, handing the script back to him. "But it could be better. Rework that bit on the CIA, it seems – "

"We've got incoming!" A young producer suddenly interrupted, bursting through the door.

"Libby?" Mac swung round as Will sat up his chair.

"Miers." The producer corrected. "PR just called a press conference. Harriet Miers is about to resign her nomination to the Supreme Court."

"I've got 12 congressmen claiming it as a victory for the Democrats!" An intern shouted out from the phone.

The newsroom was abuzz with activity. It was only ten minutes till the broadcast and they were still trying to gather up the story, grasping for details as the deadline loomed over them.

Will paced up and down inside the maze of desks, dress tie still not done up, reading from the scribbled pages of his new script, in front of MacKenzie as she sat in one of the chairs, listening intently.

"…Miers, despite no previous experience as a Judge in any capacity," He read from his pages. "Was nominated by the President with gusto – "

" – 'As we have earlier reported,' " Mac suggested. "Make sure you remind them that we were the ones that called out her incompetence when others were silent. There's no shame in claiming this as a win for us, when you know, it actually is."

"White House has put out a statement!" Another producer stood up from his desk and spoke aloud from the computer. "They're supporting Miers' declaration that she resigned due to a conflict of interest from being a White House Counsellor!"

Will looked up from his notes. "Because the senators requested confidential memos?"

"That's what it says." The producer scanned the screen.

"Seems a bit convenient." Mac said suspiciously, looking up at Will.

"They only wanted those memos to see where she stood on divisive issues." Will stopped pacing and met her gaze.

"But they've also given her a reason to resign." She reiterated. "That meant the Republicans could save face and still appear to support their President, when in reality it was a bipartisan victory to cull the nomination of someone woefully inadequate for the post!"

"I don't know…" Will's mind swirled as he looked back down at his script.

"What don't you know?"

"I think we're missing something…" He flicked through his pages as a surge of thoughts pounded his mind.

"Missing something?" Mac asked, growing concerned. "Will, we've spent weeks on this story. All these senators and congressmen – right now they are proving everything you've said from behind that news desk." She stood up from her chair to meet Will. "We're minutes away from broadcasting, we need to get that script to autocue."

He held the notes tight in his hand. She was right. This was the culmination of everything they had worked on for almost a month, so why did he feel so hesitant? Trying to shut out the storm of questions raging through his mind, he relinquished the pages to Mac when suddenly a gravelly voice rang out from his memory.

You're just as bad as the rest of them.

Will froze as Mac took the rundown from his hand.

Following your nice, comfortable, insider line.

The words of Harvey Moss swirled in his head like a ghostly chill.

Taking in their press releases and petty partisan strategies then spewing it out to the public and labelling it 'news'.

He was right.

He was right all along.

"David!" MacKenzie's voice shattered him out from his thoughts as she called out to the newsroom, holding the script aloft. "I've got the final rundown, let's get this on the prompter!"

"No." Will found himself saying.

"What?" She looked back at him in confusion.

"Tear it up. Throw it out." He stepped towards her, growing in confidence. "Get rid of it. I'm not going to use that rundown anymore."

"Are you mad?" Mac stared at him in disbelief. "We're minutes away from going live and you want to write an entirely new script?"

"No." He said confidently with a sly smile, then quickly began to do up his tie. "I'm going to do it live. No notes, no script."

Leaving a stunned Mac in his wake, he strode through the newsroom room to the studio door.

"You have gone mad!" She finally jolted into action and followed after him. "This isn't improv night at the comedy club! Start rattling off whatever comes to your head and you may as well sign up as head anchor for Fox News!"

Will pushed open the door to the studio then paused and turned back to MacKenzie, giving her charming smile.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Not at all!" She answered quickly, becoming breathless.

"60 seconds!" The director's voice rang out through the set.

Will stepped closer to her, his face turning serious.

"Do you trust me?" He asked again, softly.

MacKenzie's gaze focused on him, studying his every facet, when finally she gave a small sigh.

"Don't make me regret this." She said sternly as Will let out an irrepressible smile, then she turned and rushed back down the hall towards the command centre.

"30 seconds!" The voice called out again.

Will hurried to the anchor desk and sat down as the cameras rolled into position. Putting the earpiece in he could hear his blood pumping at a frenetic pace. The standby light in the darkness started to blink. This could be a huge mistake. The director called fifteen seconds. He pulled down on his jacket to flatten it out. The bold word 'VAMP' shone solitary from the autocue.

10

9

8

He clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking.

7

6

5

"Show me what you've got, Billy." MacKenzie's voice whispered from his earpiece.

4

3

He can do this.

2

1

The standby light turned red.

"Good evening and welcome to News Night, I'm Will McAvoy.

Our top stories tonight: Saddam Hussein's trial continues in Baghdad; Chief of Staff to the Vice President, I. Lewis Libby, is set to be indicted tomorrow for perjury; and youth unrest on the streets of Paris.

But first to the White House, where only two hours ago, Counsellor Harriet Miers publically resigned from her nomination as the next Associate Justice for the United States Supreme Court.

Counsellor Miers was nominated by President Bush on October 3rd, and today became the first nominee to withdraw her name from consideration since Douglas Ginsberg in 1987.

In her public statement, Miers claimed that she relinquished her nomination due to fears it would 'create a burden for the White House and its staff and it is not in the best interest of the country'. This is connected to the fact that during her committee hearings, Republican Senators Lindsey Graham and Sam Brownback requested private memos from the President's office in order to gauge her position on certain issues.

This is a fact that was confirmed to me this afternoon by Senator Graham himself, and by President Bush's statement of acceptance of Miers' resignation, saying the Senate's request for internal White House documents was potentially damaging for the executive branch's independence."

Will took in a deep breath, then turned to the next camera, sending out a silent prayer that MacKenzie sensed what he was up to.

"And this, I believe, is where most people would leave this story: An unwise nomination of someone unqualified for the position being blocked by a bi-partisan effort, while the majority party was saved from the embarrassment of disloyalty by the white flag of a technicality.

And so it was that we were to set leave this story here too, until I, as Managing Editor of News Night, realised I had made a mistake.

I ask you to forgive my divulgence into editorial comment, but I feel I should apologize for making this mistake.

I made a mistake that many others had made, but that does not mean it is acceptable.

I was so blinded by the desire to deconstruct Counsellor Miers' past, that I could not see the big picture; and this big picture is revealing an ominous pattern."

The large camera slowly moved closer towards him.

"In the 1950s, President Eisenhower invited the then First Secretary of the Soviet Union, one Nikita Khrushchev, to take a tour of these United States, in effort to thaw out the Cold War. His host was the young Ambassador to the United Nation, who one night, got into a debate about the similarities between the two world powers.

Khrushchev had claimed there was little difference in the way they chose a leader. The Soviets chose one man, while the United States chose one man from two.

The Ambassador responded by eloquently explaining the long process of primaries and conventions, but Khrushchev was unshaken. He countered that while Congress makes the laws, it was the Supreme Court that had the power to overturn them. The young American laughed, reminding him that there were nine of them.

However, the Soviet Leader did not laugh. 'Nine old men to begin with' he told the Ambassador, 'but then they vote. And sometimes wind up 5 to 4 to maintain a law, or to overthrow it. So, in the end, your country is ruled by one man. One American, not even elected'."

Will could sense the nervousness from the darkened command centre, but he had to go on.

"It would not take much effort to find fault in the logic of this argument, but it does highlight a major weakness in our Judicial System – a weakness that has rapidly grown over the years, while we have grown more complacent with its existence.

In the weeks following Counsellor Miers' nomination, we were blinded by her past record that we did not see that she was firmly supported by the Republicans of the House, and of the Senate. And we were so blinded by our opinion of her unsuitability that we did not find it curious when, very recently, those same Republicans wavered in their support.

We assumed that they had changed their stance by recognising the same failings that we had reported.

But we assumed wrong.

Throughout her Committee hearings, Harriet Miers refused to give definite opinions on the hot button issues the committee members use as a so called 'litmus test', such as abortion and privacy. The members were so desperate to find where she stood on these issues that two of them asked for her past papers from the White House - any way to glean where she would stand if she became the 'one man' to decide whether to enact a law or overrule it.

The Republican Party has a majority in both the Senate and the House. If Harriet Miers had ticked all the conservative boxes, no matter what her inexperience, she would have cruised smoothly to her instatement. But instead she took pause and shied away from permanent positions. She refused to play the game, and so it was her end.

And so the game goes on, and we have come to accept it as the norm. It is almost second nature to us that a President will nominate someone who mirrors their own view on policy. But that is not how the court is supposed to work.

In the last twenty years, 5 to 4 decisions have risen exponentially, but that is not how the court is supposed to work.

These are nine men and women who are supposed to have dedicated their life to the study of the same law, who are experts in the same constitution – and yet their conclusions are completely polarised.

These are nine men and women who are supposed to be immune for the political ebbs and flows of the day as they remain secured in their seat on the court for the rest of their life.

That is what is supposed to happen. But it does not. Over the years we have slipped into apathy and let partisan politics take over the venerable Third Branch of Government, transforming it simply into mirror of a divided country.

There are many reasons why Counsellor Harriet Miers was unqualified for a lifetime position on the highest court of the land, and we have reported these many reasons many times before – but that is not the reason she has resigned.

She resigned because she was not deemed 'conservative enough' by members of the Republican Party.

This an accelerated trend which needs to be halted, a politicalization of an objective office that needs to be rallied against - otherwise eventually our laws will end up being determined by one man.

One American, not even elected."

Will stared into the black void of the camera then took a deep breath.

"And now to Iraq."

000000000000000000000

Will leaned back against his desk with a sigh.

In the quiet refuge of his office, he began slowly to take off his tie.

Mac hadn't talked to him for the rest of the broadcast, saving a few short directions. She probably thought he turned into some raving polemicist, but he could help but feel proud.

For the first time in his career, he felt like he deserved his job.

Pulling the loose tie down from his neck, he looked up as his glass door suddenly opened, revealing MacKenzie as she rushed into his office then just as quickly froze in her spot, staring at him.

The door slowly shut with a dull thud.

"What the hell was that?" Mac finally broke her silence.

"I'm sorry, it was just something I needed to do." Will stood up from the desk and held out his hands in appeasement.

"Something you needed to do?" She looked at him in confusion. "Deliver verbose improvised speeches about fundamental problems in our government at the drop of a hat?"

"It's a habit." He shrugged.

"Whatever happened to habits being a two cups of coffee in the morning?"

"Mac – "

"Or rearranging someone's desk if it's messy?"

"It was just something Moss said…" He tried, stepping closer to her.

"And then there's Moss!" She cried out in disbelief. "The man who hates you, the man who insulted you in front of your face and yet you still protected him!"

"Mac…" His voice lowered in concern. "Are you ok?"

"No!" Her voice squeaked. "I am not ok! Because I am done with men! I don't need men! I am a highly renowned executive producer! People respect me! Big people! But then you go around being nice to bitter men and being funny and smart and comforting and giving amazing speeches on the Supreme Court and I start getting really confused, because I don't need men, I don't want them. But god do I want you."

Without warning, her lips suddenly flew to his, her fingers becoming knotted in his hair as she drew him closer in.

It took a second for the shock to wear off before a flood of heat ran up his spine and into his chest as his heart began to race while his mind felt faint.

MacKenzie McHale was actually kissing him.

He didn't need another second to make the most of it. Snaking his hands around her petite body, he pressed her closer, and opened his mouth wider as their lips fell into a passionate rhythm.

The feel of her, the smell of her – that mysterious pair of legs in the newsroom had a body and a brain to match, and was finally in his arms.

As his hand moved up to hair, she pulled away slightly, leaving his lips but still just touching at the nose, as her dark eyes filled his view, crinkled in a smile.

"So," She said softly, her voice breathless. "You doing anything tonight?"


	10. Chapter 10

“She asked you out.” Dr Habib’s tempered voice broke the quiet of the dark room.

Will didn’t respond. His mind was still haunted with memories, with promises and hopes that now lay shattered in his hands. He was so happy then. That night of the broadcast, he felt that he was invincible, that everything in life had finally aligned itself and made sense – but now that ghost of bliss had rotted, hanging painfully in his chest. Why couldn’t he just let it go? Why couldn’t he just forgive her?

“There was a linguist…” Jacob spoke up, snapping Will out from his thoughts. 

He looked back at the doctor as he sat securely in his large leather chair, his gaze focused intently on Will.

“What?” Will grumbled, rubbing his forehead in frustration, wishing this session would just end. 

“Why is the sky blue? One of the first things a child asks, right?” Habib carried on despite Will’s look of ambivalence. “There was a linguist who decided to do an experiment on the colour of the sky. So, when he had a young daughter, he taught her all the colours, told her what was red, what was yellow, what was blue. Everything, expect for the sky. No one ever told her the sky was blue. After few years, whenever it was a clear sunny day, he would take her for a walk, and ask what colour the flowers were, what colour the cars were, and she would answer them all correctly. But then he would point to the sky. 

And she would say… nothing. She didn’t even think it was a proper question. The sky wasn’t a colour; it was just a void. 

Sometimes the things we think we know can be wrong. Sometimes our beliefs are revealed to be completely unfounded.”

“Don’t I know it.” Will grumbled darkly as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“Yes.” The doctor answered directly. “You do. But not in the way you think.”

Will looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You call her Dulcinea.” Habib said, matter-of-factly. 

“That’s… that’s from Don Quixote.” He explained with disinterest. “And The Man From La Mancha. She’s – ”

“I know where she’s from.” The doctor cut him off. “Which is why I find it interesting that you call MacKenzie that.”

“It’s that stupid metaphor she used when she came back, and Dulcinea’s the just main woman in the book.” Will finished the sentence for him. 

“She’s also the woman that Don Quixote proclaims as his ‘Lady Love’.” Habib added. “The one who he fights for, the one who he does ‘righteous’ deeds in the name of. Except in reality, she has no idea about this. Don Quixote thinks she’s the love of his life but she just thinks he’s some crazy old man.”

An unexpected pain stabbed through his chest, like a wound he had tried so hard to forget. He glared darkly at the psychiatrist.

“What are you trying to get at?” He snapped. 

“You brought Brian in as punishment because she didn’t respond your admission of love over the voicemail. You waited two years before you decided to finally ask her to marry you, even though you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her from the moment you met. And when you met, she was already dating one in a very long line of men, so when she swung over to you, you thought maybe you were just another name on the list. 

This whole time you’ve believed you’re the one who’s the most in love. The one who fell head over heels from first sight, the one who’s chasing, the one who went all in, while MacKenzie was just the one who went along for the ride. 

But this whole time you’ve been wrong. Because you’ve missed something so clear and so obvious, because no-one has pointed it out to you - you’ve seen it, but you just haven’t noticed it.”

“Noticed what?” Will barked, tired of the doctor’s games. 

“That MacKenzie is in love with you. That MacKenzie has been in love with you pretty much since you first met. Sure, she only realised her love later on in the relationship, but it is clear from her actions that she was in love with you from the beginning. And that she still is. You think your love for her is deeper but the reality is she’s right there with you. She just has a different way of showing it. 

You’ve spent these past few months - this past year even – trying to hurt her in order to equalize out the pain from when she cheated on you, except you haven’t noticed that she felt as much pain from her infidelity as you did.

You can’t forgive MacKenzie because she betrayed you. But the thing is, you weren’t the only one she betrayed when she slept with Brian. She betrayed herself.”

Will was frozen in his seat, his heart pumping at a frenetic pace as Habib’s words flooded his mind. He couldn’t be right. Could he? A rush of something he had not felt for years rose up in his chest. Hope. 

No. He mustn’t let himself hope. It would be his downfall again. 

“She can’t love me.” He muttered in doubt. “She’s… everything. But me?”

“Why did she kiss you? Why did she trust you from the beginning? Why did she cover the Casey Anthony trial? Why did she come back to News Night at all?” 

“Then why did she cheat?” He forced out the question, each word more painful and confusing then the next. 

“Because she was confused, because was scared of how deep your relationship was, because she could make up for her being rejected – why does anyone make mistakes?” Habib leaned towards him in his chair. “But that’s what she did. She made a mistake. And you’ve been making her pay for it for a very long time.”

Will fell back into the dark leather couch, bringing his hand over his eyes as the guilt suddenly burned in his chest.

“How could I have been so blind?” He growled with regret, his memories now clearing with realisation. 

“We are all blind in love. Even more so when we are hurt.” Jacob said sympathetically. “But now – now you can see the truth of it. Now you can see the colour blue.” Will slowly dropped the hand from his face as the doctor leaned in closer and stared at him directly in the eyes. “So what are you going to do about it?”


	11. Chapter 11

Will punched the lit up floor button again. 

“I think it got the message.” A baritone voice rang out from behind him. 

Will looked around to glare at the bodyguard, his large frame filling the small wood lined elevator. 

“Nothing wrong in double checking.” He tried calmly, his nerves straining inside him. 

“No, nothing wrong…” Lonny replied sceptically. “Just a little OCD…” he mumbled under his breath. 

“What?” Will turned back to him. 

“Nothing.” The bodyguard feigned innocence. 

Will sighed in frustration and went back to facing the metal doors of the elevator. “You know you didn’t have to come with me.”

“No, I much prefer leaving my clients to run free around an unprotected building.” Lonny replied dryly. 

“We’re in the Upper West Side! What’s going to hit me here? Airborne tofu?” Will huffed. 

“I’m not the one paying for your protection.”

“I’m not the one either!”

Lonny paused for a moment, looking him up and down. “You trying to get rid of me for a reason, McAvoy?”

“I just… Could you just hang here for a few minutes?” The elevator slowed down to a stop as the heavy doors creaked open. Will held out his hand to the gap then turned back to Lonny. “I need to do something. Alone.”

The bodyguard studied him carefully for a moment, then reluctantly took a step back to the wall of the elevator. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He grumbled.

Will gave a sly smile then stepped out of the elevator and into the long hallway, the last of the afternoon sun shining down its empty expanse.

The metal doors shuttered closed behind him as the sound of his heart pumping filled up his ears. 

This was it. 

With a half skip he turned and strode down the hallway. 

His fingertips tingled with excitement. His breath became short. His chest tensed up. 

He reached the door. 

Quickly, he pulled his cell phone out from his jacket pocket and held it out in front of him.

A wave of doubt suddenly washed though him. 

No. He had to do this. 

Swallowing down his nerves, he unlocked his phone with a determined swipe, pressed the familiar number, and slowly brought the phone to his ear.

The sound of ringing filled his thoughts when it clipped to a stop, and was replaced by a bright English accent. “Will, it’s a saturd – ”

“Hey.” He quickly interrupted, heart racing as he stared at her door. “It’s me, Will. Listen, I swear I’m not saying this – ”

“ – Are you stranding outside?” MacKenzie’s confused voice interjected through phone. 

Will froze in his spot. “What?”

He heard muffled sounds from the other side of the door. “You are!” Her voice exclaimed. “What are you – ” 

He could hear the click of the door unlocking from inside. 

“No!” He found himself shouted into his cell phone. 

“What?” Mac’s voice echoed.

“Don’t open the door!” Will tried desperately the pick up the pieces of his plan. 

“Why on earth not?” She sounded perplexed. 

“I just… needed to tell you something.” 

“Good, so I’ll let you in.”

“No.”

“But you want to tell me something.”

“Over the phone!”

“Then why are you standing outside my apartment?”

“Because.”

“When did you turn 10?”

“Because there is a reason, but I can’t tell you, so can you just stand there for a second?” Will sighed in frustration. 

“I am literally staring at your giant blonde forehead right now.” Mac’s voice continued unhindered. “What’s the difference in me opening the door?”

“A big difference.”

“Well, you look horrible in fish eye lens so I’m going to open the door.”

“No!”

“It’s my door!”

“It’s your landlord’s door!”

“Well I pay monthly for the use of it!”

“Then can you wave that right for just one minute?”

“And you call yourself a patriot!” 

“What?”

“Asking me to relinquish my domestic rights!”

“MacKenzie - ”

“I happen to enjoy using doors!”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I use them every day!”

“Listen – ”

“And you want to come here and tell me when and where I can’t – ”

“HEY IT’S ME WILL.” He gave up and shouted over her quickly. “Listen I swear I’m not saying this because I’m high and if the answer is ‘no’ then just do me a favour and don’t call me back or bring it up or anything but I have to tell you I mean after tonight I really want to tell you that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

He took in a deep breath, as his hand gradually stopped shaking and his voice became slower. 

“I never stopped loving you. 

Even with, you know, all that shit – which I don’t want to talk about but it’s there but you know, with today and with 9/11, I just think – it makes it clearer what you want. What you love. 

And I love you. God do I love you. You’re the love of my life so… yeah. I don’t know why I’m calling I just needed to say this, so can you call me back? But I mean, if you don’t feel the same way then don’t. Don’t call or talk about it and we’ll just go back to normal. Ok? Sorry. Good night. I love you.”

Will felt as if a crushing weight had just dropped from his shoulders, as he stood there in silence, holding up his cell to his ear and staring at the wooden door. 

Suddenly, he heard a muffled click, and the door slowly edged open, revealing the stunned, beautiful face of MacKenzie McHale. 

He dropped the phone from his ear, and took in a deep breath, drinking her in as a swell of joy rushed through him. 

“That’s what the rest of the message said.” He said softly, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. 

MacKenzie remained silent, staring at Will in amazement as she continued to grip onto the door handle. 

“But there’s something I need to add now.” He tried cautiously, as he stepped an inch towards the threshold. “Something that has taken me way too long to do.”

He looked down into her large dark eyes and gave a small, hopeful smile. 

“I forgive you.” He said softly. “Can you forgive me too?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “You’re not being sarcastic.” She whispered in disbelief. 

“No.” He shook his head simply and took another step closer. 

“You forgive me.” She echoed in surprise. 

“Yes.”

“That means…”

“Yes.”

“We can be together?” The words sighed from her mouth in realisation, as Will closed the gap between them, and carefully brought his hand to her face, his eyes swelling with devotion as he delicately drew a loose strand of her soft dark hair behind her small ear, then met her gaze. 

“If you want me.” He offered simply with a small half smile. 

MacKenzie’s mouth flustered open then closed it as Will’s hand rested on her cheek. “God you’re hopeless!” She sighed in frustration.

Will couldn’t help but grin, when he suddenly pulled her in closer and brought her lips to his. The feel of them together, the feeling forced into memory for so long, now swept back as he felt her small hands wind their way into their old spot amongst his hair and he became intoxicated by the familiar taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her. This was where he belonged. 

Breathing her in, he slowed their rhythm and drew back slightly to take in her eyes, their blue tinge now shining in the afternoon light. 

“And that.” He murmured to her lips. “Is exactly why I need you.”


End file.
